Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

offer to help practice English, because yours is already perfect." He catches my eye and smiles. That smile again, talk about perfect.
    Damn, I hope I'm not blushing.
    "Yes. And I'll bring you some books and magazines next time I come." I'm already pulling them off the shelf in my mind, ranking them in the order of their likely intellectual and aesthetic appeal, assigning Joe-ratings.
    "I'd really like that."
    The PA system blares out a code. I'm gone from his bedside in a flash. My hand is still warm from his. Focus on the job. He'll be there. He's safe, he's found.
    ****
    December 1941
    Blood. I can feel it. It's warm. Joseph's blood. Not long now.
    I don't want to go.
    For some reason, Joseph smiles, and now the blood runs down his chin. His eyes are bright, though. I look at his eyes. Nothing but his eyes.
    He can see me. It's time.
    He speaks to me, again and for the last time. His lips move, but no sound comes out, so I move closer, and closer still, until I can feel the radiant warmth of the blood in his mouth, and the ineffectual wheeze of the last air leaving his lungs.
    "I know what you are," he says, again, and I don't know if he even remembers the first time, and maybe it doesn't matter, because it was always coming to this. Death works through me. I have no life of my own. I never will.
    Joseph's hand guides my face until our gazes meet again. "Hey. Don't be afraid. If this isn't... If this isn't the end, then I'll find you."
    And then he tilts his jaw up, nudging his mouth against mine.
    This can't be the end.
    ****
    September 1965
    I wake up from one of my dying dreams, this time fighting the strange, sad urge to wipe sticky blood from my lips.
    This can't be the end.
    What does it mean? A line from a song? A poem? Something from the piles of notebooks stacked on the bedside table, the desk, the radiator?
    A hand touches my shoulder.
    "Lie down," Joe mumbles, patting his palm clumsily down to my chest and trying to push me back from where I've sat up. "...Pulled the blanket off me s'too cold. Go back to sleep."
    "Cold? It's not cold. You Americans..." I give up trying to remember my dream. I'd much rather be here, now, with Joe. Finally, I flop back into bed, savoring the warmth of Joe's body as he nuzzles against me and settles back into sleep.
    This can't be the end.
    I touch the round curve of Joe's ear. Brush the hair back from his brow and press a kiss to his temple, smiling a little smugly to myself.
    And it isn't.
    THE END
    Author bio: Heidi Belleau and Violetta Vane are two unlikely friends and co-writers from different sides of the same continent. Heidi, from Northern Canada, is a history geek with a soft spot for Highlanders and Victorian pornography. Violetta is a Yank (and a Southerner, and a Japanese-American) with a cinematic imagination and a faintly checkered past. Together, they write strange and soulful interracial and multicultural m/m with a global sensibility and the occasional paranormal twist. Check out their erotic shorts "Salting the Earth" from Storm Moon Press and "Cruce de Caminos" from Riptide Publishing, coming in May, as well as their debut novel Hawaiian Gothic, their friends-to-lovers ghost story coming to Loose Id in June.
    Contact info: Heidi Belleau
    HeidiBelleau.com
    Facebook
    Twitter
    Blog
    Goodreads
    Tumblr
    Contact info: Violetta Vane
    ViolettaVane.com
    Facebook
    G+
    Twitter
    Blog
    Goodreads
    Amazon
    Pinterest
    New Release Mailing List for Heidi and Violetta (new releases only)
    ****

WEST, HAVEN
    by Jenna Jones

    Two dark-haired young men in jeans and t-shirts lie on a couch. One is reading while the other kisses his neck.

    Dear Author,
    We have been best friends forever. During college we grew apart; he dated women, I dated men. Now, we have both moved back to our hometown and decided to share an apartment together until our careers take off. Can he ever feel about me the way I feel about him? Please let us fall in love and have our HEA without any cheating, ménage, or open ship.
    ***ETA: I would like the scene in the picture to take place at some point in the story.
    Sincerely,
    Heather C

    genre: contemporary
    tags: classical musicians; therapist; first time; bullying; abuse; friends-to-lovers; reunited
    word count: 12,156
    Back to Table of Contents

    WEST, HAVEN
    by Jenna Jones
    The car hit West's from behind, sending him bouncing between the one behind and the one before for what felt like a week. When he stopped bouncing, he sat for a moment, fingers